


The Songbird

by melaninmilkshake



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Horror, Cannibalism, F/M, Horror, I Don't Even Know, Kidnapping, Original Character Death(s), Pedophilia, Psychological Horror, What Have I Done, Why Did I Write This?, Written for a Class
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:02:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24117697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melaninmilkshake/pseuds/melaninmilkshake
Summary: Beautiful. Angelic. She’d heard it all. Her voice was amazing. They called her the Songbird. Everyone loved her. But there was one person who loved her voice, maybe a little too much. He wanted the songbird to sing for him. Only him. Forever. Until she died. If she refused, well…
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	The Songbird

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGER WARNING TRIGGER WARNING TRIGGER WARNING TRIGGER WARNING TRIGGER WARNING TRIGGER WAR-  
> Oh, you saw that? Good. Lemme say it one more time. TRIGGER WARNING!!! Alright. Now we can get down to business. This book was written for my English class, and I used it to subconsciously kill someone of in my life and create a world that better fit my reality. Call it a vent piece, if you want.

He’d kill her. Simple

“Simple. So simple. I kidnap her, ask her to sing to me for the rest of my life, and if she doesn’t, she dies a painful death.” Kevin said to himself, eyes wide with insanity. He leaned back, staring at the outdated popcorn ceiling teeming with asbestos. “Easy, so easy.” Then he laughed. Laughed until he could no longer breathe, and was close to unconsciousness.

* * *

Gabriella was a small girl, thin and flat, with plain, slightly unkempt brown hair and suspicious brown eyes. To her peers, she appeared to be stuck up and tried to hard to match the smartest girl at the school, who didn’t like her very much either. They never argued because she didn’t know how to stand her ground in an argument. She often sat with the girls who had helicopter parents like her own, and fake superiority complexes.

Gabriella didn’t usually walk home, but her mom was busy, and her dad was nowhere to be found. As she walked, she stopped at a house and looked at it. This was Elisa’s house. Oh, how she wanted to do something to it. So she decided to. Gabriella found a rock and a Sharpie. She scribbled racial slurs on the rock, then threw the fist-sized insult right through the foyer window. She assumed no one was home, as there were no cars in the driveway. She kept going, knowing being white would clear all suspicion. Unfortunately, with her loud arrogant stride, she didn’t hear the man sneak behind her and hold the thick cloth to her face. As her eyes fluttered closed, she heard him whisper.

“Got you, little Songbird.”

* * *

Kevin watched her from within the thick bush as she vandalized the house.

“Guess there will be no guilt when I remove her right hand.”

He slipped out of the bush and behind her, then he chloroformed her. Her struggle was weak, as was she. He threw her in the trunk, shut it, and left, all in under fifteen minutes.

* * *

He pulled into the driveway, then opened the back gate and continued around to the back to enter the basement. He opened her mouth, stuffed a sock in it and began to tie her to a wheelchair so she would be immobile upon awakening. Then he reached into the birdcage and pulled out a small bluejay, waiting for her to wake up.

* * *

Gabriella woke up, eyelids fluttering and pupils dilating. As her eyes adjusted, they settled on a man. He was a bit on the fat side, with an odd hairline that looked like a commercial toothbrush in the center. He wore a pair of black-rimmed glasses and a cardigan, with plain loose jeans and dress shoes. He had a creepy look on her face, the look of one who has voices compelling them to prey on the weak. She began to struggle, then realized she was strapped to the rusty wheelchair. Her tongue lashed at the cloth in her mouth, which was bitter and salty. She whimpered, and he just looked at her with a horrifying small smile on his face.

He stood up, dragged his chair over to her then sat again.

“Would you like for me to remove the gag, my dear?” She cringed at the nickname but nodded feverishly. He removed the gag, and she began to scream, only to be slapped so hard the wheelchair tipped over and her head slammed into the ground. She cried out but was cut off as he righted the chair and gripped her by her throat, sure to leave bruises on her milky skin.

“You must be stupid.” He growled at her. Then he brought out the small shaking bird. Tears started falling down her face when she saw it.

“You see this bird?” 

“Y-Yes,”

“Should I crush its bones or yours, hm?” He squeezed the bird to the point at which it cried out.

“The bird’s bones.” She whispered.

“What?” He asked, putrid breath washing over her face.

“The bird’s bones!” She cried, not wanting to die.

“Alright, then the bird it is.” He continued to squeeze the bird, and it screamed, screamed to the point at which it stopped crying out, and there was a horrendous, disgusting squelching sound, and the bird was dead. Gabrielle saw the bird lying limp in his hand, and did her best to hold in the bile that had risen in her throat. She watched him take the bed over to the equivalent of a surgeon’s tool table. And cut into the bird’s soft flesh, right at its breast. Cutting through it made such a disgusting sound, she couldn’t stand it. Just like the rest of this place, it made her skin crawl.

* * *

Kevin cut into the bird, the young girl’s ragged breath egging him on. He liked her fear, it was almost palpable. He liked the young white girls, they tasted the best. He pulled the bird’s heart from its body, no bigger than a pea. He held it on the scalpel, in front of her face. 

“Eat it.’ he said, a deranged look on his face.

“I-I don’t want to eat it.” He threw his head back and laughed. 

“Like you have a choice. Eat it, Or I’ll slice your face like the Joker. “ And with that, he grabbed her face, prying her mouth open to form an o. The small bird's heart slid from the scalpel into her mouth on a fun slide slick with blood. She closed her mouth and looked up at his, pleading.

“Chew,” he said, now looking so crazy he might stab himself, “and swallow.” She slowly did as he said, bile rising every time blood squirted from the small bird’s heart. She began to sob vehemently. He watched for a few moments, then slapped on the other cheek, leaving her on the ground to clean up the mess he made searching for the heart of the bird.

Gabrielle wanted to die. 

But at the same time, she didn’t.

It had been two days since the man had kidnapped her. He had raped her and made her eat birds and vegetable scraps, giving her a gallon of putrid water, and ice-cold bird blood. She didn’t want to, but she drank the blood of the bird, throwing up almost instantaneously, but being hydrated and cool. There was no air conditioning in this place, and it smelled of sweat and his body odor. He had gone through her backpack and was pleased to not see a phone anywhere in sight, grinning like a Cheshire Cat when he found out she just didn’t have one. She cursed her mother at that moment for not giving her one. But she survived, and every day, he brought another bird, asked who would die, and fed her its heart.

It wasn’t until the next day she realized he meant to kill her. He came in with a syringe full of some clear liquid. He injected it into her shoulder, and she couldn’t feel anything below. She watched him as he bought over a table and strapped her hand to it.

“Would you like to stay here forever, little Songbird?” Like any sane person in her position, she shook her head no; she was gagged. With little to no hesitation, he pulled out a butcher knife and cut off her left forearm. Though she could only feel the slight vibration of metal to metal constant, she screamed through her gag, and the broadside of the butcher knife slammed into her face. She felt blood trickle down her face, and her left eye became blurry. 

Then everything went dark.

He shook her awake by dragging a steak knife over her face. She couldn’t scream anymore, her voice was gone from when he cut off the rest of her arm and ate it in front of her. For some reason, she wasn’t dead, but it didn’t matter to her. She had soiled herself, hadn’t bathed, nor brushed her teeth, and her face was most likely dirty beyond recognition. Her hair was greasy and matted, and there were cramps in her body from sitting so long. She didn’t know how she’d survive in this condition.

* * *

Today was the day. He was going to kill her. Never had he been in such a good mood. He fed her, cleaned her, even took her out of the wheelchair and chained her to the wall. Today was going to be a wonderful day.

He walked slowly and calmly to the basement with a baseball bat in his hand. He leaned on it as he looked at her.

“Sing for me, little bird. Sing to save your life.” They both knew she couldn’t sing. Her voice wouldn’t work the same way it used to. But she tried. “Come on, sing for me.” He swung the bat and cracked a few ribs.

“Sing.” He swung at her legs, breaking both kneecaps.

“Sing” He punched in the chest, knocking the wind out of her.

“Sing!”His hand is on her throat now, a knife on the opposite side.

“I can’t!” She squeaks out. He frowns.

“No need for a songbird that can’t sing.” He shoves the knife into the right side of her neck, going straight through, then turning it and cutting diagonally towards her collarbone. With a few more teardrops, she was dead. He cooked her, ate her, then cleaned up the entire room of all her DNA. The house would be on the market in two days. His things were packed, furniture on the way to California. He’d decided to move to a small town called Corona, and get a job as a computer teacher at the middle school there. Everything had gone according to plan.

He got into his beat-up Camaro and pulled out of the driveway, leaving behind the town.

* * *

Epilogue

Elisa

I get off the bus and make the short walk to my house. My jaw drops when I see the window. I quickly run into the house.

That’s when I see the rock. It’s Gabi’s writing. Every single slur on there. She did this.

She’s dead...


End file.
